Night Town:The Acidhead Avengers- Part 5-- Danny Downer
Rumor had it.
Dalene shifted in the booth, and adjusted the usual neon green-and-black beanie."I heard he was in town this week." She, of course, meant Danny Downer. The famed owner of Danny's Diner. Now a major franchise operation. He was the original. And theirs was the original Danny's. Location Number One. Now a receptacle for late-night Urban Shaman escapades.
"It probably was a rumor. That guy is super reclusive. We'll never see him," responded Gabe,
Danny Downer had been influential in the local Hellcore scene twenty years earlier. He'd started with extreme stage shows, but eventually retreated behind minimal beats, laptops and aviator shades. Mr. Downer was often stylish in a trenchcoat and striking in a suit, but usually preferred professorial sportcoats with patches on the elbows. His profuse collarbone tattoos still displayed wherever he went. Once hairspray-ravaged hair was either buzzed and gently spiked or occasionally in a discreet ponytail.
"Are we really wasting time here for a celebrity sighting?"
"I heard he's cute."
"Jesus, D. Get laid already."
"Shut up. Plus you loved his music more than I ever did. You just hate anything and everything nowadays."
"You're not wrong."
"Double negative, motherfucker. I hate when you use that phrase."
Both of their milkshakes arrived.
"I feel like we should be condemning each other for eating dairy."
"Yeah."
"Ok, then." Dalene took a big sip. The aviator-bespectacled man arrived. He took his seat in the booth directly next to them, behind Gabe and in Dalene's sight line. No coat, no swagger, no sharp-dressed man tonight. Just a tee that read "Task Force Rejects."
"Isn't he dreamy?" toned Gabe, utterly deadpan.
"I'd be able to reply if you weren't blocking my view."
"Oh, sorry I'm in the way. Did you want me to order you a Mega Gulp for all that thirst?"
Abruptly, Danny turned around. "HEYYY! I know you. You're Mr. and Mrs. Tito Estele!"
"Um, what." Dalene shrank.
"Looks like we have our next client,"whispered Gabe. In a normal voice, Gabe offered, "Er, can you tell us what you're seeing, sir?"
"Everything looks like hashtags lil' Mister and Mizz..."
"Good, good. Um, let me think..Mr. Downer, do you want to go claw-machining for stuffed animals?" For no explicable reason, Gabe had made his intonation exaggerated, as if he were wearing a monocle.
"That's the biggest damn conspiracy under the sun since THE CHINESE TOOK ALL OUR JOBS!! You know it takes like seven bucks to win that machine."
Gabe nervously cleared his throat and chuckled lightly. "Not around here, Mr. Downer. This is your gig, remember? You win every time!"
Danny became pensive. Dalene whisper-spat "Did you just offer to claw-game the owner of this whole company while he is probably tripping balls?"
"I got this. I got this, D."
"Can't we just knock him out with the smell of one of my knee-highs?" Gabe stood up out of the booth. "Let's go do the claw game. It'll be fun."
"I'm gonna win this before the third try," grinned Danny. He was slowly shattering every inch of his attractiveness before Dalene's chagrined expression. But she knew what to do.
Danny Downer and Gabe spent at least twenty minutes at the claw game. Dalene could hear hoots and howls, and they certainly weren't coming from Gabe. She knew exactly what to do. Another ten minutes rolled by. Suddenly, Danny stormed back to his former table, Luckily the diner wasn't terribly busy that night. Both hands slammed down on the tabletop.
"I LOST. BAGGABAGGABASTARDS!" Gabe's cool head knew just how to deal and Dalene knew the drill. "It's ok, Mr. Downer. Sometimes we all lose. And think of it this way. You won with this lovely restaurant. And these lovely customers." Danny heaped onto the tabletop crying, while Dalene strategically slid utensils and a half-full coffee cup on the man's table away from his cranium. "There, there,"said Gabe. Danny's gentle, heaving sobs began to turn into a slow loll of the torso from side to side, swaying to some imaginary music. Eventually Danny Downer shifted his body to the wall closest to the window. His movements slowed. Gabe came to sit down in his original place.
"You know what to do, eh?"
Dalene nodded and pursed her lips with a slow nod. Delicately, she pulled the mini-Coily out of her pocket. It arced down stairs and boinged from hand to hand when you transferred its weight from side to side. You could pretend you were playing an accordion with it. It made soothing swooshing noises.
Furtively, Dalene walked over to Danny Downer, who was knocked out cold. A strange awkwardness at touching somebody she was a fan of overtook her.
With a smile, Dalene gently pressed the Coily between Danny's resting hands.
"You won the claw game, big boy."
Dalene shifted in the booth, and adjusted the usual neon green-and-black beanie."I heard he was in town this week." She, of course, meant Danny Downer. The famed owner of Danny's Diner. Now a major franchise operation. He was the original. And theirs was the original Danny's. Location Number One. Now a receptacle for late-night Urban Shaman escapades.
"It probably was a rumor. That guy is super reclusive. We'll never see him," responded Gabe,
Danny Downer had been influential in the local Hellcore scene twenty years earlier. He'd started with extreme stage shows, but eventually retreated behind minimal beats, laptops and aviator shades. Mr. Downer was often stylish in a trenchcoat and striking in a suit, but usually preferred professorial sportcoats with patches on the elbows. His profuse collarbone tattoos still displayed wherever he went. Once hairspray-ravaged hair was either buzzed and gently spiked or occasionally in a discreet ponytail.
"Are we really wasting time here for a celebrity sighting?"
"I heard he's cute."
"Jesus, D. Get laid already."
"Shut up. Plus you loved his music more than I ever did. You just hate anything and everything nowadays."
"You're not wrong."
"Double negative, motherfucker. I hate when you use that phrase."
Both of their milkshakes arrived.
"I feel like we should be condemning each other for eating dairy."
"Yeah."
"Ok, then." Dalene took a big sip. The aviator-bespectacled man arrived. He took his seat in the booth directly next to them, behind Gabe and in Dalene's sight line. No coat, no swagger, no sharp-dressed man tonight. Just a tee that read "Task Force Rejects."
"Isn't he dreamy?" toned Gabe, utterly deadpan.
"I'd be able to reply if you weren't blocking my view."
"Oh, sorry I'm in the way. Did you want me to order you a Mega Gulp for all that thirst?"
Abruptly, Danny turned around. "HEYYY! I know you. You're Mr. and Mrs. Tito Estele!"
"Um, what." Dalene shrank.
"Looks like we have our next client,"whispered Gabe. In a normal voice, Gabe offered, "Er, can you tell us what you're seeing, sir?"
"Everything looks like hashtags lil' Mister and Mizz..."
"Good, good. Um, let me think..Mr. Downer, do you want to go claw-machining for stuffed animals?" For no explicable reason, Gabe had made his intonation exaggerated, as if he were wearing a monocle.
"That's the biggest damn conspiracy under the sun since THE CHINESE TOOK ALL OUR JOBS!! You know it takes like seven bucks to win that machine."
Gabe nervously cleared his throat and chuckled lightly. "Not around here, Mr. Downer. This is your gig, remember? You win every time!"
Danny became pensive. Dalene whisper-spat "Did you just offer to claw-game the owner of this whole company while he is probably tripping balls?"
"I got this. I got this, D."
"Can't we just knock him out with the smell of one of my knee-highs?" Gabe stood up out of the booth. "Let's go do the claw game. It'll be fun."
"I'm gonna win this before the third try," grinned Danny. He was slowly shattering every inch of his attractiveness before Dalene's chagrined expression. But she knew what to do.
Danny Downer and Gabe spent at least twenty minutes at the claw game. Dalene could hear hoots and howls, and they certainly weren't coming from Gabe. She knew exactly what to do. Another ten minutes rolled by. Suddenly, Danny stormed back to his former table, Luckily the diner wasn't terribly busy that night. Both hands slammed down on the tabletop.
"I LOST. BAGGABAGGABASTARDS!" Gabe's cool head knew just how to deal and Dalene knew the drill. "It's ok, Mr. Downer. Sometimes we all lose. And think of it this way. You won with this lovely restaurant. And these lovely customers." Danny heaped onto the tabletop crying, while Dalene strategically slid utensils and a half-full coffee cup on the man's table away from his cranium. "There, there,"said Gabe. Danny's gentle, heaving sobs began to turn into a slow loll of the torso from side to side, swaying to some imaginary music. Eventually Danny Downer shifted his body to the wall closest to the window. His movements slowed. Gabe came to sit down in his original place.
"You know what to do, eh?"
Dalene nodded and pursed her lips with a slow nod. Delicately, she pulled the mini-Coily out of her pocket. It arced down stairs and boinged from hand to hand when you transferred its weight from side to side. You could pretend you were playing an accordion with it. It made soothing swooshing noises.
Furtively, Dalene walked over to Danny Downer, who was knocked out cold. A strange awkwardness at touching somebody she was a fan of overtook her.
With a smile, Dalene gently pressed the Coily between Danny's resting hands.
"You won the claw game, big boy."
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